


A Collection of Kisses

by The3rdTrumpeteer



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Angst, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, from a prompts list on tumblr, most of them are cute I guess, probs never complete lol
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-05-18
Packaged: 2019-05-08 18:59:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14700255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The3rdTrumpeteer/pseuds/The3rdTrumpeteer
Summary: Different people.Different kisses.Different scenes.A collection of prompts from my tumblr.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> 40\. ...because the world is ending.

The year is 1918. Jack and Katherine stand on the platform together, holding each other tightly. Afraid that if they let go, they will never see each other again.

Jack’s uniform is new, the buttons shiny, the fabric crisp and clean. It won’t remain that day for long.

“You look so handsome.” Katherine brushes some imaginary dust from Jack’s shoulder, and he smiles at her. “I don’t want you to go.”

A single tear snakes down her cheek, and Jack wipes it away.

“I won’t be gone long,” He says. His hand lingers on her face, fingers tracing her features. “Home by Christmas.”

The train whistle blows. Katherine pulls Jack into a desperate kiss, and they stay like that for a moment, safe in each other’s embrace for just a little longer. Jack lets go, climbs aboard the train, waves to Katherine. He is crying now. 

“Home by Christmas,” Katherine whispers.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is pretty much a baby follow-up to It's Not Your Fault (which can be found in my works!)
> 
> 6\. …on a falling tear.

When Davey woke up, the first thing he noticed was that he wasn’t alone in the hospital room. He could hear them breathing.

“Mom?”

A soft chuckle. “Not quite.”

Davey glanced over in surprise, ignoring the pain that shot through his head, to see Jack sitting in a chair next to the bed. He grinned at Davey’s confused expression. “Your mom’s with your brother.”

“Has he…” Davey swallowed. “Has he woken up yet?”

Jack’s grin slipped from his face. “He hasn’t.”

“Oh.” Davey could feel a lump forming in his throat, and he tried to blink away the tears forming in his eyes, but it was pointless. “Um…why are you here? I mean, how’d you…hear about this?”

Jack shrugged. “You didn’t come back to campus Sunday night, so I asked around.” He leaned forward and grabbed Davey’s hand, and Davey was so surprised that he didn’t pull away. “I’m sorry this happened to you, Dave. And your parents…they seem real nice.”

“Thanks. They are.” Davey sighed. “I just…I feel awful, Jack.”

“Well, I mean, you were in a car accident.”

“It’s not that.” The lump was bigger now; it was hard for Davey to speak around it. “I should have seen the truck, or protected Les a little harder. And now he might not even wake up.”

Jack squeezed Davey’s hand harder. “This ain’t your fault, Davey. Your mom told me what happened. It’s that drunk idiot’s fault.”

“But-”

“Stop.” And then Jack leaned forward and planted a soft kiss on Davey’s bruised, tear-stained cheek. “You can’t beat yourself up like this. It’s not right.”

Davey looked at Jack for a moment. “I’m glad you’re here, Jack.”

“I’m glad.” Jack rubbed a thumb over Davey’s knuckles. “Your brother’s gonna be fine, Davey. Just you wait.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> find me on tumblr: http://poorguysheadisdoingwhatnow.tumblr.com


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 5\. ...where it doesn't hurt.

It was late. Past midnight, in fact. Race should be back in the lodging house, asleep…or at least in his bed. Not lying in some alley in Brooklyn with a broken nose and too many bruises to count. 

Race shifted his weight, trying to find a position that didn’t leave his body screaming in pain, but it was pointless. He swore under his breath. This was so unfair. He hadn’t even done anything to deserve it this time!

It wasn’t his fault he had had a good selling day. And it wasn’t his fault he had left the Brooklyn lodging house with more change in his pockets than usual (those Brooklyn boys never got better at poker). And it wasn’t his fault some random gang of thugs had decided they wanted his money…and his shoes.

And now Race was barefoot, in pain, and alone. He knew he should get up and try to get back to Manhattan; after all, he was only half a mile or so from the bridge. But he couldn’t make his limbs cooperate. Maybe he could-

“Race?”

That was Spot. Race slowly turned his head and squinted toward the entrance of the alley. Sure enough, Spot was heading toward him. The other newsie knelt beside him. “You can’t go one day without gettin’ in trouble, can ya?”

“Hey!” Race felt a rare sense of indignation. “This wasn’t my fault. I didn’t do nothin’…these guys just jumped me.”

Spot’s expression turned to one of anger. “Damn thugs. Let’s just getcha back to the lodging house.”

“But I gotta get back to Manhattan.”

“Yeah? And how’re you gonna get there? Walkin’ without any shoes on a sprained ankle?”

Shit, Race hadn’t even noticed his ankle was sprained, but then he looked down and saw the colorful bruises ringing it. “Well…”

“Let me help you, Race,” Spot whispered. He cupped Race’s face in both his hands and placed a gentle kiss on Race’s forehead, the only place on his body that wasn’t bruised or bleeding. At that moment, Race was glad for the bruises on his cheeks, because they hid the blush that immediately spread across his face. He looked up at Spot with a small smile.

“Alright.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> find me on tumblr: http://poorguysheadisdoingwhatnow.tumblr.com


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 12\. ...in grief.

_Shit. Shit. shitshitshitshit._

None of this was ever supposed to happen. Race tugged again on Spot’s arm, trying in vain to lift him off the wet ground.

“C’mon, Spot, you gotta get up. You gotta…”

Spot didn’t answer. His eyes were closed, his face was pale, and his red shirt was an even darker crimson than it should have been. He hadn’t been awake when Race found him, and he wasn’t awake now. Just still. So still.

Race gave up trying to drag Spot out of the dirty alley; he was too heavy. Instead, he sat down next to him, pulled Spot’s head into his lap, shielded the Brooklyn newsie’s face from the rain that was falling heavily from the night sky.

“Spot…please.” 

Race pulled up the hem of Spot’s shirt with a trembling hand and stared with dull eyes at the gash he found. It stretched across Spot’s stomach, deep and dark and still seeping blood. There was so much blood. It mixed with the rain and soaked into Race’s pants. And he stared at the blood, at the wound, at Spot’s pale face. And Race cried. He kissed Spot’s lips. They were cold.

“Please…please wake up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> find me on tumblr: http://poorguysheadisdoingwhatnow.tumblr.com


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 7\. ...to shut them up.
> 
> 18\. ...as encouragement.

 

“Spot, guess what!”

Race burst through the door of the apartment in excitement, nearly startling Spot off the couch.

“Jesus, Race, calm down a little,” Spot said, a mock glare on his face. “What’s got you so excited?”

“You gotta guess!” Race was standing next to Spot now, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Spot laughed and put his hands on Race’s shoulders to keep him still.

“I’m not gonna guess. Now tell me what you’re so excited about.”

“I got a position at the dance studio! As a dance teacher!”

“Well, obviously.” Spot pulled Race into a tight hug. “That’s so exciting. I’m proud of you.”

“I get to teach kids how to dance!” As if to emphasize, Race struck a dramatic pose, as Spot laughed again. “I gotta prepare. Maybe come up with another routine, or a lot of routines, or-”

“Race.” Spot grabbed Race’s hand and yanked him forward. Their lips crashed together. When they pulled away from each other, they were both grinning. “Babe. You’re gonna do great.”

“Thanks, Spot.”

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr: https://poorguysheadisdoingwhatnow.tumblr.com/


End file.
